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1Of unjust treatment in detention and hardship, and in cruel separation from his wife and child, he foreshadowed the
2likelihood, or the certainty; but, beyond this, he dreaded nothing distinctly. With this on his mind, which was enough
3to carry into a dreary prison courtyard, he arrived at the prison of La Force. A man with a bloated face opened the
4strong wicket, to whom Defarge presented "The Emigrant Evrémonde." "What the Devil! How many more of them!" exclaimed
5the man with the bloated face. Defarge took his receipt without noticing the exclamation, and withdrew, with his two
6fellow-patriots. "What the Devil, I say again!" exclaimed the gaoler, left with his wife. "How many more!" The gaoler's
7wife, being provided with no answer to the question, merely replied, "One must have patience, my dear!" Three turnkeys
8who entered responsive to a bell she rang, echoed the sentiment, and one added, "For the love of Liberty;" which sounded
9in that place like an inappropriate conclusion. The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison, dark and filthy, and with a
10horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome flavour of imprisoned sleep, becomes manifest in
11all such places that are ill cared for! "In secret, too," grumbled the gaoler, looking at the written paper. "As if I
12was not already full to bursting!" He stuck the paper on a file, in an ill-humour, and Charles Darnay awaited his
13further pleasure for half an hour: sometimes, pacing to and fro in the strong arched room: sometimes, resting on a stone
14seat: in either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his subordinates. "Come!" said the chief,
15at length taking up his keys, "come with me, emigrant." Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied
16him by corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them, until they came into a large, low, vaulted
17chamber, crowded with prisoners of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading and writing, knitting,
18sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the most part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the
19room. In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and disgrace, the new-comer recoiled from this
20company. But the crowning unreality of his long unreal ride, was, their all at once rising to receive him, with every
21refinement of manner known to the time, and with all the engaging graces and courtesies of life. So strangely clouded
22were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and
23misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost
24of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of
25wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes
26that were changed by the death they had died in coming there. It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side,
27and the other gaolers moving about, who would have been well enough as to appearance in the ordinary exercise of their
28functions, looked so extravagantly coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who were there--with
29the apparitions of the coquette, the young beauty, and the mature woman delicately bred--that the inversion of all
30experience and likelihood which the scene of shadows presented, was heightened to its utmost. Surely, ghosts all.
31Surely, the long unreal ride some progress of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades! "In the name of the
32assembled companions in misfortune," said a gentleman of courtly appearance and address, coming forward, "I have the
33honour of giving you welcome to La Force, and of condoling with you on the calamity that has brought you among us. May
34it soon terminate happily! It would be an impertinence elsewhere, but it is not so here, to ask your name and
35condition?" Charles Darnay roused himself, and gave the required information, in words as suitable as he could find.
36"But I hope," said the gentleman, following the chief gaoler with his eyes, who moved across the room, "that you are not
37in secret?" "I do not understand the meaning of the term, but I have heard them say so." "Ah, what a pity! We so much
38regret it! But take courage; several members of our society have been in secret, at first, and it has lasted but a short
39time." Then he added, raising his voice, "I grieve to inform the society--in secret." There was a murmur of
40commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the room to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many voices--among
41which, the soft and compassionate voices of women were conspicuous--gave him good wishes and encouragement. He turned at
42the grated door, to render the thanks of his heart; it closed under the gaoler's hand; and the apparitions vanished from
43his sight forever. The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they had ascended forty steps (the
44prisoner of half an hour already counted them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they passed into a solitary
45cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not dark. "Yours," said the gaoler. "Why am I confined alone?" "How do I know!"
46"I can buy pen, ink, and paper?" "Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then. At present, you may buy
47your food, and nothing more." There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress. As the gaoler made a
48general inspection of these objects, and of the four walls, before going out, a wandering fancy wandered through the
49mind of the prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him, that this gaoler was so unwholesomely bloated, both in
50face and person, as to look like a man who had been drowned and filled with water. When the gaoler was gone, he thought
51in the same wandering way, "Now am I left, as if I were dead." Stopping then, to look down at the mattress, he turned
52from it with a sick feeling, and thought, "And here in these crawling creatures is the first condition of the body after
53death." "Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half." The prisoner
54walked to and fro in his cell, counting its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like muffled drums with a wild
55swell of voices added to them. "He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes." The prisoner counted the measurement
56again, and paced faster, to draw his mind with him from that latter repetition. "The ghosts that vanished when the
57wicket closed. There was one among them, the appearance of a lady dressed in black, who was leaning in the embrasure of
58a window, and she had a light shining upon her golden hair, and she looked like Let us ride on again, for God's sake,
59through the illuminated villages with the people all awake! He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes. Five paces by
60four and a half." With such scraps tossing and rolling upward from the depths of his mind, the prisoner walked faster
61and faster, obstinately counting and counting; and the roar of the city changed to this extent--that it still rolled in
62like muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he knew, in the swell that rose above them.
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